


But ending up where I started again makes me wanna stand still

by feeisamarshmallow



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Emotions, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e04 The Jimmy Jab Games II, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, hurt Jake, the fee specialty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feeisamarshmallow/pseuds/feeisamarshmallow
Summary: In which Amy takes care of an injured Jake, and reflects on trepidation about the future.In other words, a whole lotta hurt/comfort and emotional introspection.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	But ending up where I started again makes me wanna stand still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estelle (Fielding)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fielding/gifts).



> Thanks to [@explodingsnapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingsnapple/pseuds/explodingsnapple) for the beta. 
> 
> For [@fielding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fielding/pseuds/Estelle), who immediately messaged me after the episode and said "please tell me you're planning on writing some h/c". 
> 
> Title from the Indigo Girls song "Watershed".

Jake is still wildly celebrating his win when Amy drops the used autoinjector on her desk and runs over to join him. Sure, it’s not the responsible thing to do, but the Jimmy Jab Games have put her in the mindset of an earlier time and Amy has been possessed with the urge to throw out any sense of caution or maturity.

“I’m sorry I stabbed you with an EpiPen,” she whispers in Jake’s ear as she joins him in an embrace. 

“Ames, are you kidding?” Jake grabs her shoulders and pulls her away so he can look her in the eye. 

“That was the coolest thing to ever happen to me. Did you see me break through that door like a total badass? Please tell me you got a picture.” Amy meets his eyes and, despite the beating he has taken today, his eyes are deep brown and warm. 

“I didn’t get a picture, but it was pretty cool. Seriously though, are you okay?” Amy crinkles her eyebrows and takes in Jake’s disheveled appearance—his curls sticking up to one side and the drywall dust sprinkled all over his navy shirt. 

“I feel great right now, don’t even feel any pain—and I was in a lot of pain before,” Jake declares with an edge of humour, but Amy deepens her frown. 

“Let me just ride the high,” he continues, “because the ooh—yep, here comes the adrenaline shakes.” He holds up a trembling hand. 

He’s practically buzzing by the time Amy gets him sitting down in the break room. Amy pulls a blanket around him, and he tries to adjust it, but his shaky hands are making it difficult. 

“Jake, I think you need to see a doctor.” Amy takes a seat next to him on the couch, taking the blanket from his hands and readjusting it around his shoulders. 

“Don’t worry, this happens after the EpiPen every time.” Jake reaches up to catch her hand, and she can still feel it vibrating and grips it a little tighter. “I kinda feel like I need to run a marathon or something right now, but I’ll be fine. God, why didn’t we think of doing this every year? I could totally crush the bomb suit run right now.” 

Amy laughs despite herself. Only Jake would think that a shot of adrenaline was an appropriate way to win a stupid, time-wasting contest. Well, actually, that’s not true. That was her exact thought when she stabbed him in the leg with the EpiPen. 

“What do you mean every time?” she asks, still concerned but also genuinely curious. “How many times have you had to use an EpiPen?” 

She knows he’s had to use it once before, when he got stung by a bee on a stakeout with her a year after she’d transferred to the 99. That had been scary but Jake, just like right now, had taken it all in stride. 

“Only three times.” He counts them off on his fingers. “That one time with you, once as a teenager at camp, and the first time I got stung by a bee in second grade. Like I said this one’s by far the coolest ‘cause it’s the only one that doesn’t involve wasps or bees. Don’t you have an EpiPen, haven’t you ever used it?” 

Amy shakes her head. “The doctor prescribed one because of my dog allergies, but it’s never got so bad I’ve had to use it. Mostly I just avoid dogs, and it’s gotten better as I’ve gotten older anyways. Does it hurt?” 

“Oh yeah, it hurts a lot. And it leaves an awesome bruise.” Absurdly, Jake breaks into a grin, and Amy reaches out to tuck a curl behind his ear. Jake leans into her touch. 

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” 

“Mark my words, Amy— it’s awesome. I’ll show you later.” Jake raises his eyebrows in his best caricature of a seductive face.

Amy feels her concern melt into a smile, but she still manages to get out, “I really think we should go to the hospital.” 

“I know it’s just—” Jake’s face has grown serious. He’s not making eye contact with her, instead fixing his gaze over her shoulder and fiddling with the edge of the blanket. 

“What? Jake you can tell me.”

“I also feel kind of bad, you know, that I took you away from the meeting with all the paperwork you really wanted to do. I don’t want to distract you anymore. And really, I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine, exactly, but I don’t need immediate medical attention. Go finish up your responsible paperwork like I know you want to, and then I promise you can take me to the ER.” 

“You’re supposed to go to the hospital right away after you use an EpiPen,” Amy says quietly, not quite meeting Jake’s eye either. 

What she doesn’t say is, yeah, she had been incredibly annoyed—angry even—when he bet their car. But more than that, and the reason why she didn’t bring it up, is that she understood the urge perfectly. Maybe she even wanted it, too. She didn’t want to lose the car (although she’s positive she could take Hitchcock in a fight if it came to that), but she did welcome the hours where she could pretend she was in a past, simpler time. 

Jake reaches up to grab the hand that she’s still running through his hair, and almost hides his wince at the movement. 

“Yeah, but that’s because you might have a secondary reaction, and despite my incredibly bad luck today, I still haven’t gotten stung by a bee,” he says to her, and it should be funny but his delivery is soft and sweet. 

“Fine, I—” Amy falters, and that more than anything makes her feel like she’s six years younger and still feeling out her relationship with Jake. “Thanks. It does make me feel better that you realized you did hurt my feelings.” 

“I know I’m still kinda bad at stopping and saying sorry, and just, once I got into it, it was so much easier to just keep going with the whole stupid thing. And, you know I really like winning-- this is going to get me so much clout in the precinct. So yeah, I’m sorry Ames. And I want you to get your work done before you go.” 

The Jimmy Jabs may make Amy feel like it’s 2014 again, but Jake apologizing, recognizing when he’s hurt her and owning up to it and his own shortcomings? That’s mature 2020 Jake all the way. Which Amy appreciates, she really does. But it’s one of those days where the world feels like it’s moving too fast and Amy just wishes it could stand still so she could appreciate it. 

“Thanks Jake, really. Can I get you anything else? Some water? Do you want your ice pack back?” 

“I still can’t feel any pain but you can get me some water.” 

Amy gets up from the breakroom couch to grab Jake’s water bottle off his desk, but she pauses at the doorway, turns around, and leans on the nearby table. 

“You know, I did end up really enjoying the Jimmy Jab Games today. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy with my place in life, and my promotion, and being all mature and stuff, but sometimes it’s fun to let go, just a little bit, and remember what it was like.”

Jake’s eyes soften and they share a small smile. 

“We were so ridiculous,” Jake muses, settling back into the couch. “Remember when you dressed up as a pregnant woman?” 

She remembers it so well. Now they’re trying to get pregnant for real, and it feels simultaneously like it can’t happen fast enough, and that she wants even more time to plan and wait and think. 

“Remember how you stole my fake pregnant belly and then used it yourself…”

“We have such a great origin story, I can’t imagine anyone else I would gladly let stab me with an EpiPen. Or anyone else that I want to be the mother of my future children. With a real pregnancy this time.” 

“Me too.” If it were anyone else but Jake, Amy would be a little embarrassed to wipe the tear slowing trailing down her cheek. She sniffs, and gathers herself, and Jake looks at her with what she can only describe as total admiration. God she loves this man. 

“And as soon as I finish this paperwork we’re going to the hospital.” Amy injects some authority into her voice, using the same tone as when she’s trying to gain the attention of her uniformed officers. 

Jake still looks like he wants to object, but he also looks a little turned on, which was exactly Amy’s plan. She knows he can’t resist authoritative Amy. And with that she makes a beeline to his desk, grabbing his water bottle, and the hoodie thrown across the back of his desk chair for good measure. She pauses at her own desk, scoops up all her unfinished paperwork and sets off to find a laptop. She does really need to finish her paperwork, but she’ll be damned if she can’t do it where she can keep a close eye on Jake. 

* * *

Six hours later, which feels like an eternity but is pretty quick for an ER visit, the doctor tells Jake to take it easy, hands him a prescription for pain meds to fill if he needs it, and gives them the OK to leave. 

Amy leaves to pull their car up to the exit (which might look boring, but is by far the coolest car Amy has ever owned, with Bluetooth and a backup camera and everything). Jake shuffles out of the ER exit, his NYPD shirt untucked, holding his utility belt in one hand, with the other hand—the one with a sprained wrist now wrapped in a black brace—held protectively across his stomach. Amy’s not sure whether that’s for the benefit of his wrist, or ribs, or both: X-rays had shown two cracked ribs, news which Jake took with a grim nod. 

She gets out from the driver’s seat, leaving the car running, and attempts to help Jake into the front seat. But there’s no good way to help, really. Even though Jake’s injuries are relatively minor (and he miraculously, thankfully, escaped a concussion), he was pretty banged up. Amy feels useless as she hovers next to Jake as he carefully lowers himself into the front, grunting when he makes contact with the seat. 

“How are you doing?” She asks as she slides into the driver’s seat and shifts the car into drive. 

“Everything hurts. Falling out of a ceiling is the worst.” 

“When are you going to learn not to climb in the ceiling?” 

“But Ames, how else am I supposed to have cool hijinks at work? But for real, I think this is the last time. You know, like the Hamilton song, I’m Washington and this Jimmy Jab Games is like me stepping down as president.” 

“You know that’s a ridiculous analogy, but I’m just glad I finally got you into Hamilton.” Amy shoulder checks, making sure the elderly lady strolling along the sidewalk is still a safe distance away, and pulls out of the hospital parking lot. 

“Who knew history could be so cool, Ames?” Jake continues, leaning back on the headrest and closing his eyes. “Anyways, I’m passing on the mantle to younger, more spry detectives who aren’t trying to have a family.” 

“And who don’t have two broken ribs and a sprained wrist.I still can’t believe you didn’t even know you had sprained your wrist.” 

“It’s because my ribs hurt enough to cover everything else up.” 

“Jake,” Amy spares a glance his way, taking her eyes off the road and watching as Jake anticipates every bump over New York’s pot-holed streets. 

“Broken ribs are the worst. They hurt so much. And you don’t even get a cool cast or anything so people know you got hurt doing something awesome and epic. And the advice is to still try and take deep breaths, which just hurts worse!” 

“I know Jake, but it’s important—”

“To avoid complications like pneumonia, I know, I know. I’ve been given the speech a bunch of times. I always break my ribs. And it always sucks.” 

“And the number of injuries you’ve had always concerns me.” Amy pulls up to a stoplight. 

“What can I say? I’m a cop; the work is dangerous.” Jake cracks open an eye and lifts his good hand off the seat in a semblance of a shrug, careful to keep his bruised shoulder still. 

“Jake, I’m a cop too, and I’ve never broken my ribs.” 

Jake’s silent after that, and Amy figures he’s fallen asleep, or is at least resting. She concentrates on the road, watching the scenery grow in familiarity as they get closer to her apartment. The dry cleaners on the corner with the handwritten sign advertising specials in the window. The man from the flower shop taking in his plants for the night. The bodega with the neon blue light advertising coffee. 

“Do you think one day we’ll be driving home from the ER with our kid instead of me?” Jake breaks the silence as Amy turns onto their road. 

Amy takes a minute to think. “I mean I hope not, but probably at some point,” she finally responds. “Especially if they’ve inherited your clumsy, lack-of-self-preservation genes.” She lets her lips quirk in a semblance of a smile. 

Jake goes quiet again. Amy meant her joke about his clumsiness to temper the seriousness of the response, but she’s not sure if it lands. She gives him a quick sidelong glance, but she can’t tell if he’s upset or just in pain. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking.” Jake runs his finger up and down the seat. “I’m used to the pain and stuff, but thinking about our kid going through it—”

“It’s scary,” she admits. She pulls over and puts the blinker on to signal she’s about to parallel park, and the sound of the blinker echoes through the car. 

“Yeah.” 

“Parenthood is scary. We’re not even pregnant yet. But I’m excited and I’m terrified.” Amy’s been thinking all day about the confusing mass of fear and excitement that’s been swirling inside her, but it’s the first time she has voiced it aloud. 

Jake reaches across the console to put his hand on her thigh, as Amy turns around to reverse the car. 

“Remember when we first kissed?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. 

The car is parked now, and Amy can finally look Jake in the eye. 

“In the evidence locker?” She says quietly. She remembers perfectly. His eyes, just like now in the fading light in their car, had held a note of vulnerability she’d never been privy to before that moment. And he had been so gentle with her as they kissed for the first time, eventually wrapping his arms around her back and carefully pulling her towards him. 

“And you said, ‘a lot of changes around here, huh?’” Jake continues, in the present, taking her hand. “That’s how I feel now. It’s a good thing. But there are a lot of changes, and it’s scary and exciting all at the same time.” 

Neither of them move to open the car door. Outside their car traffic rushes past, and the last remnants of light reflect off the glass shop windows, but they’re content to stay put, at least for a minute. 

* * *

“That is an awesome bruise. In the true sense of the word. And I’ll only give you that because I can’t think of any other way to describe it.” Amy climbs over Jake, happy to finally be home and eating a (very late) dinner. She sets the bottle of extra-strength Tylenol on his bedside table, and settles next to him on their bed. “And I am sorry for stabbing you.” 

They’re sitting side-by-side, watching the new _Property Brothers_ they had DVR’d with a carton of _pad thai_ balanced between them. (On a plastic rain poncho because, while Amy conceded to dinner in bed, she’s still taking precautions.) 

Jake’s wearing sweatpant shorts that have ridden part-way up his thigh so Amy can see the full damage inflicted by the EpiPen. The injection site has a bruise blossoming around it, still a little red and swollen. And just below it is his scar from the bullet, more pink than red, but still very much noticeable against his pale skin. Amy really has got to stop injuring Jake’s legs. 

Amy pulls out a noodle with her chopsticks and leans over to bring it up to her mouth. Jake is unsuccessfully trying to shovel the peanut topping into his mouth with a fork in his left hand, his sprained wrist resting across his chest. 

“It’s totally okay, Ames. You know, at least this time I get to share Thai food with you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Last time I broke my ribs, and my wrist, and, well, a lot more too, in Atlantic City? Rosa brought me Thai takeout while I was recovering. Which was super nice, but I’m glad that this time I get to share it with you.” 

“Me too.” If she weren’t eating she’d lean over and kiss Jake. And if he didn’t have a bruised shoulder she’d rest her head on his. 

The TV flicks to commercials and Amy sets down her chopsticks and picks up the remote to fast-forward. 

“I was so worried when you got in that accident.” She murmurs as warp-speed commercials cast flickering light across their faces. “You were all the way in AC and we weren’t dating yet. I remember I wanted to help but I also didn’t want to overstep.” 

“You and Holt came and visited me.” He pauses. “It meant a lot, you know. I always felt that work was all I had. Sometimes I still feel that way, even though I know it’s not true. You visiting reminded me that you all had my back, even when everyone was a little mad at me for running off to AC.” 

The _Property Brothers_ title card flashes on the screen, but instead of pressing play, Amy pauses the TV. 

“I’m glad this time I got to be the one to take you to the hospital, though.” She lets all the sincerity she feels flood into her tone. 

“Me too.” Jake echoes her. 

“For that reason, I’m glad we’re where we are right now, in life, in our relationship, even though it's also new and scary.” That admission should make her anxious, but instead it makes her feel lighter and safer. 

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Jake smiles, soft and vulnerable. 

“Me neither.” 

Then she presses play. After all, they have to see how the show will end. 

_~fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Or come say hi on tumblr [@feeisamarshmallow.](https://feeisamarshmallow.tumblr.com/)


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